


Strawberry Chapstick Tastes Like Shit

by gouzinzangoku



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Kozume Kenma Comes Out, KuroKen - Freeform, KuroKen Being Boyfriends, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, boys cuddling, like..... the slightest angst maybe, supportive parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23765365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gouzinzangoku/pseuds/gouzinzangoku
Summary: Kenma never believed in love until he did.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 14
Kudos: 149





	Strawberry Chapstick Tastes Like Shit

Kenma never thought he'd be one to seek love. 

He was always content with what he had. His games fought off boredom, his parents brought in comfort, and his friends came packed full with happiness. In the end, though, it was always Kuro who provided Kenma with what he needed at that time. It was Kuro who patched up Kenma's knees if he fell when playing volleyball. It was Kuro who bought Kenma the newest games. It was Kuro this, Kuro that, and it only took years of unrecognised pining for Kenma to realise.

..

Kenma was never one to believe in clichés. He hated the romance movies his mother cried over and never understood his fathers interest for novels that ended with suburban couples and their picket fences. He asked his father once why he put so much time into reading them, and why he stacks their shelves with books that all end the same. 

"You'll see one day, maybe not soon, but eventually someone will come to you and everything will just make sense." He'd said, one thick finger acting as a bookmark in his newest purchase. "You'll feel like you've completed a puzzle, of sorts. Or in your case, completed a boss battle after hours and hours of trying.”

"Is that how you felt with mom?" Kenma had asked quietly, childish eyes hidden behind his curtain of black bangs as he wrung his hands through the sleeves of a sweatshirt borrowed from the neighbor boy with hair darker than his. 

"That's exactly how it was. I wished for a princess and was given a queen." His father sighed, looking from Kenma to the window with a dreamy look in his eyes. Kenma sniffled, trying to imagine himself in a situation like that. 

He thought of no pretty girls with soft hair and softer voices, no girls with baby-looking skin and rosy cheeks with full lips to match. He thought hard, but came up with nothing but black behind his eyes. He was young, so he figured that's all that had to do with the blank scenarios he came up with. 

The following year, freshly 15 and emerging from his room with sore eyes and a major confession running rabid through his brain, he asked his parents if he could talk to them. 

"What's wrong, Kenma?" His mother had whispered quietly, wrapping her son in a crushing side hug, "your father and I were worried, you were crying so loudly." A loud smack of a kiss to his temple was placed. 

As he wiped the lipstick away, he mumbled, "I think I'm gay, mom." 

A silent gaze passed over Kenma's head, shared between both of his parents as he began to sob into his mothers neck. The flowery smell of her worn off perfume helped his head clear a little, the scent familiar to his senses, one he associates with calmness and security. Kenma sniffed and pulled away, eyes shifting nervously between his father and his mother. 

Clearing his throat, his father spoke softly, "that's okay, Kenma. That's perfectly fine with us." 

He doesn't remember how long he and his parents cried on their sofa together, but at some point his mother left to make dinner and he was left curled against his father's side with one of his favorite cartoons playing on their TV. 

"I hope you don't think I'm weird, or anything." Kenma had muttered against his fathers shoulder, cheek smashed against it. His eyes burned and felt heavy from crying so much. 

"Of course not, son. Parents are meant to love their kids no matter what, right?" 

Kenma sighed, "right." 

.. 

Summer reminds Kenma that life can be okay. It meant that school was no longer and that he can sleep whenever he wants to without having to drag himself through brightly lit halls the following day. 

It also means more time spent with Kuro. A nearby park was always the pairs go-to spot when they felt like abandoning their video games for the time being. It was always green, pink, and pretty, even if clouds covered the hot sun and gave Kenma's eyes a break from squinting. 

"Why don't you like my cologne? Why're you so mean to me when it comes to things outside of video games and volleyball?" Kuro was whining at Kenma's side, keeping his distance because he was supposedly giving Kenma a headache. 

"It's not that I don't like it, you put too much on. You're far away from me and I can still smell it if I try hard enough." Kenma's mouth lifts at the corners in a soft smile. "Better than your stupid strawberry chapstick, though." 

"It's not stupid," Kuro pouts, "if I buy you ice cream can I stand closer to you?" his thick eyebrows raise in question, shoving his hands into the pockets of his workout shorts to retrieve just enough money for each of them to buy one cone. 

"Promise not to drop it this time? Last week was a mess, and mom still hasn't managed to get the chocolate stain out of your jacket." Kenma snickers quietly as Kuro's face drops the longer he talks. 

"Pinky promise." Kuro holds out a long pinky, Kenma thinks it's probably the size of his middle finger, and links his pinky with Kuro's. 

“Pinky promise.” 

Kuro buys the ice cream from a nearby vendor and drags Kenma, now attached to his hip, behind him to find a bench to sit on. As they eat, they fall silent, and Kenma lets himself gets lost in the things around him. 

The weight of Kuro's arm draped over his shoulder helps him stay anchored, as well as the warmth of the muscular thigh pressed against his own. It's warm in Tokyo, the warmest it's been so far, so both boys are dressed in casual shorts. As time passes, Kenma absentmindedly notes that their thighs are stuck together. When he's finished with his treat he stays sitting, letting himself fall further into Kuro's side. His perfume isn't actually bad, Kenma was just making a ruckus all the while trying to get a rise out of him, and the closer he gets, the further he drifts. His vision clears and blurs every now and then, admiring the glare of the sun and the flowers blooming overhead and at his feet. 

As he gets lost in the smell of Kuro and the surrounding sounds, he feels his eyes grow heavy. 

"Kenma, sweetie, I'd love to nap with you, but we're on a park bench right now." Kuro whispers down into Kenma's ear, making the boy jump slightly and snapping him from his daydream. Kenma glares at Kuro for the nickname but says nothing, instead unclenching the napkin buried in his fist and standing up to throw it away. 

Kuro follows, pulling Kenma into his side as they start their trek back home. Kenma's hands wrap gingerly around Kuro's wrist, holding onto it as he struggles to stay in step with Kuro's large strides. For a second time that day, Kenma gets lost in what makes Kuro, Kuro. 

..

Napping on hot afternoons are what Kenma loved most about summertime. Having a window cracked open, dressed in baggy clothing, usually stolen from Kuro or even Bokuto, so he doesn't suffocate, and his life sized body pillow in the shape of a Kuro at his side. 

"You're insane for wearing a sweatshirt right now." Kuro chuckles as Kenma begins to nuzzle against his side. "I'm in a tank top and I'm sweating. Can I open your window more before you pass out?" 

Kenma rolls onto his back with a dramatic sigh, "don't fall on me trying to do that weird thing where you refuse to use the rest of my bed to get off, but climb over me instead." Kuro chuckles at Kenma's moodiness. He could see the tiredness in his eyes the moment he arrived at the Kozume's front door, but Kenma insisted on food and gaming, and Kuro just couldn't say no to him. 

"Yes, princess." 

"Don't call me that," Kenma pouts, "and if you don't want the door creaking open you can shut it or put my school bag in front of it." Kuro closes it quietly, socked feet padding softly against Kenma's wooden floors as he moves around.

Like a normal person, as Kenma considers it, Kuro slides back against Kenma's side from the end of the bed. Kenma turns from one side to his other so he's face to face with the taller boy. 

"This is weird. Why did you turn to face me?" Kuro chuckles, though the arm that comes around Kenma's shoulders is a purposeful move. "Now I have to look at you while I try to sleep." 

"I should be the one saying that, you meanie." Kenma bends his legs, feet on the tops of Kuro's knees, and straightens his legs. His small hands come to push at Kuro's large shoulders, turning his body into something akin to a square. 

"What on earth are you doing?" Kuro laughs as Kenma only pushes himself further towards the edge of his mattress. 

"You're mean," is all Kenma reasons, feet shuffling to the tops of Kuro's thighs in attempt to move him at least the slightest bit. 

"You're like a feather compared to me, Kenma, this is not going to work out as well as you want it to." Kuro's laugh becomes louder when Kenma scowls at him. In a rush, Kuro pulls Kenma to his chest by Kenma's arms. Kenma's legs flail at the sudden movement, but he could care less as his face is suddenly in Kuro's chest. 

"I can’t breathe," Kenma grumbles out, warming the skin of Kuro's chest through his shirt, "and I could've kneed you in the dick if I wasn't more aware." 

"You actually kind of did. You're also making my chapstick dig against my hip right now with your leg where it is." Kuro shifts against Kenma, albeit awkward considering how close their crotches are. Kuro sighs, "you're making this weird."

"You pulled me into your chest. You're the reason it looks weird," Kenma pulls his leg back, "and I still hate your chapstick. Strawberry, of all things." 

"Did you know you're really moody when you're tired?" 

Kuro coughs as Kenma's knee comes back to where it should've gone before. 

..

What Kenma loved most about summer was the freedom he had. Whether it was the switch from the confines of his school uniform to looser clothing or escaping from cramped hallways to the safety of his or Kuro’s house, Kenma found comfort in the days that summer brought with it. 

He likes that he can sit on the stairs leading up to his front door and ignore the city lights of Tokyo long enough to look at the stars. Often times Kuro is by his side, swaying back and forth or laying flat against the concrete, warmed by the days sun. 

Kenma likes the way it smells most when Kuro joins him on nights like those. When he's alone, the smell of grass and faraway rain mingle in his senses, and once in a rare night he gets a whiff of a late night barbecue or bonfires his neighbors are hosting. It's nice, and it helps clear his head of that days boredom or frustration, but with Kuro it always feels cleaner. 

Kuro wakes up late, which means he showers late. Sometimes, as a way of greeting Kenma, he shakes the water from the longest strands of his hair onto Kenma. Kenma almost always jumps a foot in the air when the cold droplets hit his neck and arms, turning to frown at a laughing Kuro. 

"Did the big mean cat scare the kitten again?" Kuro would say, squatting down next to Kenma with a grunt and a sigh. Kenma forgives him, sometimes verbally and sometimes not. 

Tonight, Kuro decides not to scare him for once. 

"Hey, kitten." Kenma turns, looks up, and decides this is the moment his father must've been talking about all those years ago.

Love didn't make sense to Kenma. He never understood why someone would give one single person their all, give them their life story and let them see into who they are and what made them, but Kenma knows now. He knows why his father said everything will finally make sense, because it does. As Kuro, tall and handsome, big and scary but a nerd at his core, stands against the starlit sky with his hair down against his forehead and the moon illuminating him like a misplaced and crooked halo, Kenma realises. 

Kuro sits next to Kenma, zip up hoodie pulled tightly against the broad of his shoulders. Kenma can see the outline of Kuro's stupid strawberry-flavored chapstick in the pocket facing him, but can't seem to find words to tease Kuro about it. His tongue has dried up, and when he swallows it's louder than he wants it to be. 

Love never meant anything to Kenma outside of his parents, but the longer he looks at Kuro, the more he learns as he reflects on the past year spent with the boy sitting next to him. Young boys, both hidden behind curtains of black hair, forced into what grew to be an amazing friendship. Early sprouting teenage boys who wanted to do nothing but play video games and volleyball. Kenma, who came out to Kuro before he came out to his parents; Kuro, who said a simple 'me too' and continued on like nothing. 

Kuro, who was beautiful under the moonlight; Kenma, who finally understands love. 

"You're staring, you know," Kuro sways, bumping shoulders with Kenma, "something interesting?" 

"N-no, sorry. Just tired, I guess." Kenma stumbles, happy that it's dark and Kuro can't see the hot blush that covers his cheeks and nose; at least he hoped. Kuro, knowing Kenma all too well, pulls a hand from his pocket and presses the back of it against Kenma's cheek to feel the gentle heat in Kenma’s cheeks. 

"You were thinking," Kuro mumbles, moving his hand from Kenma's face to the boys furthest shoulder, pulling Kenma close against his side, "what about." 

"Stuff," Kenma says back, stuffing his nose into the crease where neck meets shoulder and inhaling, "like, stuff. Yeah." 

"Do I smell good? Your nose is cold." Kuro laughs softly, ignoring the way the damaged strands of Kenma's bleached blond hair tickles the underside of his jaw. Where Kenma is buried into his neck, Kuro feels a gentle nod. Maneuvering himself gently, Kenma sits himself in Kuro's lap. Kuro welcomes the smaller boy, chuckling again when Kenma nuzzles into him a second time. 

Kuro does smell good, but Kenma doesn't say anything. His tongue has gone dry again, his senses filled with nothing but Kuro. Kuro smells clean, his body wash nothing but bar soap but still so fresh to Kenma, his clothes feel soft against the exposed skin of Kenma's legs and however much of his back is exposed when his shirt rode up trying to situate himself against the larger boy. Kuro's voice echoes in Kenma’s head, and behind closed eyes is the image of Kuro haloed by pale moonlight. 

Kuro starts rocking him gently; side to side and back and forth. Kenma thinks he could cry. 

"Kuro?" his voice is rougher than he wants it to be. He still feels like crying, the urge growing worse as all his senses are pulled from Kuro. Kuro’s smell, Kuro’s touch, Kuro’s voice, Kuro’s gentleness. 

"I thought you were asleep, so I wasn't talking. You crawled in my lap like a cat, though, it was pretty cute." Kenma blushes again. Kuro doesn't have to check this time to know. 

"A while ago," Kenma starts, "I asked my dad why he was so obsessed with his romance novels, I told him I didn't understand why he liked them so much if they all had the same endings, you know?" Kuro hums. Kenma continues, "and he said I'll figure it out one day; said it'll feel like everything inside fell into place. Then I asked him if that's how he felt with mom." 

"You said all this when you told me you were gay, why're you telling me again?" Kuro pets through Kenma's hair. 

Kenma ignores the question, "I think," Kenma hesitates. He wonders if Kuro can feel the way his heart makes his entire body feel like it’s pounding with the jackhammering way it beats, wonders if Kuro can feel the way he trembles with nerves. 

"Kuro," Kenma faces Kuro as best as he can in the darkness of the night, "I feel that falling into place feeling when I look at you." 

"That's a pretty poetic way to say you love me." Kuro teases, and Kenma wishes he could laugh with him, but too much is clouding his mind to do so. 

"Sorry." Kenma mumbles, hiding inside Kuro's scent again. 

"Don't apologise, kitten," Kuro feels Kenma shake with gentle sobs, "can you look at me?" Kenma sniffles, pulling his head from the comfort of Kuro to stare at the older boy. His eyes are wet. Kuro can see the reflection of the stars and the city lights in unshed tears. 

"I love you, Kuro," Kenma confesses around a hiccupped sob, "I've loved you for so long." 

"I love you too, Kenma, for even longer." Kuro cradles Kenma's face between his too warm hands, thumbs and lips taking the tears from Kenma's skin. "You're so beautiful, Ken." 

"Can I kiss you?" Kenma asks shyly, voice still watery and body still trembling. Kuro nods, whispering a small 'yes'. Kenma lets out one last sob before his lips meet Kuro's. All at once, Kenma feels like everything he didn't know he was missing was found. 

Kuro is soft against him. His bangs tickle the skin above Kenma's eyebrows, fingers dancing over Kenma's flanks before settling against the small of his back. Pulling away, Kenma feels like he doesn't have to run straight back in to find comfort. 

Kenma never understood love, but he understands what Kuro means to him. 

..

"I hate your chapstick even more now that I know what it tastes like." Kenma says later that night. Kenma's parents, who definitely weren't watching what was going on outside, had told the boys that water was boiling for tea and asked if either wanted any. Hurriedly, Kenma dried his tears and peeled himself away from Kuro. With a heavy arm on his shoulders, Kenma led them back inside. 

"My chapstick doesn't taste bad." Kuro mumbles over the rim of his mug a few minutes later, causing Kenma and even his mother to choke in surprise. Kuro hides a mischevious smirk around a swallow. 

"I'm breaking up with you." Kenma says with a sarcastic lilt in his voice, giggling softly as Kuro fakes hurt. 

"You're son is a mean boy, ma'am." Kuro turns to Kenma's mother, now, posture more professional despite the exasperated look written on his features. 

"What're we going to do with him, Tetsurou?" She plays along, keeping her giggles under control to the best of her ability. Kenma rolls his eyes, picking up his and Kuro's empty mugs and setting them in the sink. 

"C'mon Kuro, I'm tired. Night, mama." Kenma drags the older boy back to his room as he bids his mom goodnight, flopping onto his bed the moment he's in range to do so. Kuro slides up behind him, arm slung over the small of Kenma's back. 

"Covers?" Kuro asks quietly in case Kenma has already fallen asleep. Over the years, Kuro has learned Kenma has the tendency to do that after crying. He never asks about it, figuring it's added exhaustion on top of nights spent with bloodshot eyes as Kenma stares at one of his game consoles. 

"No," Kenma mumbles back, "Jus' grab the blanket." With a limp hand, Kenma motions to the black fuzzy blanket he's talking about. Kuro throws it over the both of them. Similar to how they sat on the steps, Kenma curls up to Kuro like a kitten would. 

It's nothing new to them, the cuddling, but it feels as new as ever. Different, to be exact, because now Kenma can wiggle himself into Kuro's warmth without the worry of Kuro thinking it's strange. He can kiss Kuro goodnight, if he wanted to, but any muscle in his body refuses to move even the slightest bit, so. 

"Act like I kissed you goodnight." Kenma hates the way his cheeks burn a third time that night. 

"Will do," Kuro strains his neck, lips meeting the crown of Kenma's undyed roots with a quiet kiss, "goodnight kitten." 

Kenma sighs his goodnight before he passes out.

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiii long time no see, ao3.......
> 
> I’m back with KuroKen again because I rewatched Haikyuu!! not too long ago. I missed writing my favorite boys :( 
> 
> I hope this makes your quarantine a bit better. Stay safe and wash your hands!! <3


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